


Midnight at Helms Pharmacy

by bonnieandrhyme



Category: Joker (2019)
Genre: Complete, F/M, Fluff and Angst, One Shot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 09:47:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21177407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonnieandrhyme/pseuds/bonnieandrhyme
Summary: Arthur hates his regular trips to Helms Pharmacy until a pharmacy tech catches his eye.





	Midnight at Helms Pharmacy

He knew he was daydreaming - it was sunny. Trees and grass and flowers. And her, smiling up at him, as golden and pure as the sunshine itself. “Arthur,” she beamed, but he never heard the rest of her words.

The blare of fluorescent lights was loud and bright, and over a PA the squawky voice of an anonymous clerk: “Thank you for shopping at Helms Pharmacy. The store is closing in fifteen minutes.”

Arthur blinked, and the pharmacy counter came into view, a dull blue, and behind it,  _her_.

“Excuse me, sir? I can help who’s next.”

Arthur realized with startling clarity he was the only customer in line.  _How long had he been standing there?_

He kept his eyes downcast, avoiding her own, and shuffled forward. “Hi, I’d, uh, like to - I need to,” he mumbled down towards the counter.

“Name?” She offered with a polite smile. She seemed kind. Light blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail. He knew her eyes were green without looking; he’d studied her before, the past two times she’d been the pharmacy tech on duty. Her name tag read  _Stephanie_.

“ Arthur. Arthur Fleck,” he forced himself to try to smile without laughing. He felt a cruel laugh bubbling at the edge of his throat but fought it. Not in front of  _her._

Stephanie’s fingers grazed his as she passed him the white paper bag of pill bottles, and it felt electric. “Have a nice night,” she said, and his steps felt just a little lighter on the way home, even in the rain.

* * *

Arthur stalled in front of the “Family Planning” section, staring wide-eyed at an array of pregnancy tests and condoms. He felt conspicuous, like anyone looking at him could read him straight to his thoughts. 

Pressing a palm over his mouth to stopper a laugh, Arthur grabbed a box at random, hardly daring to look at his choice. On his way to the pharmacy counter, he snagged a jug of milk, wielding it like a shield in front of the condoms.

Stephanie was alone at the counter again, hair in its customary ponytail. “Hi,” she smiled, lipstick a cherry red. “Picking up?” He imagined those lips against his, imagined her laid out on his bed wearing nothing but that cherry red lipstick, and then coughed, nodding.

She pulled his pill bottles from a basket marked F and passed them to him. As she leaned forward, the hint of cleavage at the neck of her white coat made his heart race. He felt illicit, like he was dirtying her with his thoughts. But no, this was normal. Normal men bought condoms and planned to ask girls on dates and - 

“Would you like me to ring those up too?” Stephanie gestured to the milk jug and hastily chosen box of condoms in his hand. Her face was calm, pleasant, no judgement.  


“Oh, uhm, sure, thanks,” Arthur stared down at the counter as his handed them over, hoping she couldn’t somehow tell he’d been imagining using them  _with her. _

The image of her cherry red lipstick burned in his mind, feverish, for the next week.

* * *

He  _had _ to see her. 

Arthur was shaking, even though the shower was hot. Adrenaline, maybe. His laughter came in howls as the paint circled the drain. There was no literal blood on his hands, but those men, those business suit assholes, were dead now.

And it was his fault. He didn’t feel guilty, though. More a sense of....acceptance. Like maybe it was always going to be like this, like eventually someone would push him hard enough and he couldn’t hold it in anymore.

Soap burned his eyes, but the laughs had died down. He exhaled, resolute. He should go see her.

* * *

Helms Pharmacy was still open, and Stephanie was the only tech on duty again. She wiped down the window at the counter and shuffled an errant stapler into place.

Water dripped on his jacket, hair still wet from the shower, but Arthur walked right up to the counter and looked her in the eye.

“Oh hi,” she smiled. “It’s...Fleck, right?”

_ She remembered his name.  _

“ Yeah, Arthur.”

Her eyes caught on his wet hair, the edges of his shoulders, but she gave a polite smile. “Picking up?”

The condom in his back pocket felt heavy as lead with importance, and now that he was facing her, his confidence withered. Her attention shamed him, reminded him who he was and who he wasn’t - nothing like those smug Wayne pricks, but maybe pretty girls like her preferred -

“No, no, it’s uh...” he panicked and snatched a roll of mints from under the counter at random. “Just didn’t want to stand in line over...” Arthur nodded towards the front registers: only two customers.

Stephanie was gracious and said nothing to judge. “Sure, lemme ring you up.”

* * *

“Arthur, I’m sorry,” Stephanie winced, her voice lowered. He was the only customer in line, again, but she still whispered. “Your prescriptions run out this month, and I know the Social Services office is closing ....do you have a plan to get a refill?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?! What the hell am I supposed to do now? Do they  _want_ me to go fucking crazy?” The strength of his outburst - the first time he’d raised his voice at her - startled Stephanie, and the hurt look on her face made him flush with shame. 

“I - I’m so-sor,” he tried to stammer out as a fit of painful laughter overtook him, chest shaking. 

Stephanie stretched a hand out, grasped his. “Arthur,” her voice soft. “It’s okay.” 

She squeeze his hand until the choking laughs quieted. Then she grabbed one of the pharmacy’s business cards, flipped it over, and scribbled a quick note, pressing it into his palm.  _Meet me by the dumpsters tomorrow at close._

Stephanie gave him another polite smile and announced in a more formal, louder tone, “Mr. Fleck, as I said, I’m sorry. I suggest talking to your doctors about generic or alternate medications. Here’s a chart of the out-of-pocket costs for your prescriptions. Please let us know if you have any questions.”

Arthur’s palm was sweaty as he pulled his hand away, clutching the crumped business card. “S-sorry,” he muttered again. “Thank you.” 

* * *

The next night Arthur waited behind Helm’s Pharmacy, smoking a cigarette, trying not to fidget too much. Piles of garbage bags swamped the dumpster, the air rank. 

Five minutes after 11, Stephanie stepped out of the back door, lugging a garbage bag, a purse slung over her shoulder. She tossed the trash bag, aiming for the top of the dumpster pile; it skittered down and landed with a wet plop on the ground.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” she sighed.

“You didn’t seem the cursing type,” Arthur commented, wreathed in a glow of smoke, illuminated by street lamps. It made her seem more earthly.

“Not usually,” Stephanie smiled wanly. “But I volunteered for garbage duty tonight. Here,” she shoved an unmarked pill bottle in his hand. 

Arthur stared at it, almost uncomprehending. 

She took a few steps closer to him, her hair like gold in the yellow light; she stood on tiptoes and whispered in his ear. “Don’t tell  _anyone _ where you got these, okay? I could lose my license this way, but you - you deserve it.”

He shoved the bottle in his pocket, heart thrumming.  _She did this for him. _ “I...,” he swallowed back a laugh, “Stephanie, thank you.”

“Sadly, it’ll be a one time thing. I wish I could help more but....”

“No, no, it’s perfect.  _You’re _ perfect,” Arthur enthused even though his cheeks burned to say it.

Stephanie stared at him, all big round eyes, but she didn’t  seem  offended. He pressed on, words tripping over each other in their haste. “Doyouwanttogetdinnerwithmesometime?”

She breathed out a surprised chuckle, and Arthur took a nervous drag on his cigarette, ready to shrug it off as another bad joke.

“Uhm, sure?” Stephanie sounded amused. “How about...right now? I know a good diner around the corner. Best waffles you’ve ever had.”

* * *

The diner was dingy and quiet, its neon “Open” sign flickering feebly in the window. Once upon a time, it might have welcomed a midnight crowd of off-duty cops, hungry drunks, and night owls, but now Stephanie and Arthur were among the few customers. People were too scared nowadays.

They took a corner booth, and they ordered waffles, bacon, and coffee for them both. “The coffee is kind of terrible,” she apologized to Arthur, “but the waffles are amazing, so they make up for it.”

“Then why do you drink it?”

“Habit, I guess?” Stephanie shrugged. “Probably shouldn’t have caffeine this late, but -“

“It’s safer than the water.  _That _ stuff’ll kill ya!” Arthur ventured a joke, and she obliged with a pretty laugh. 

Their food arrived, and Arthur drew a gloopy smiley face onto his waffle with syrup.

* * *

“It’s so sad, don’t you think?” Stephanie nodded towards the newsstand. Almost every front page article was plastered with “killer clown” articles.

Arthur raised a brow at her. “The...the  _clown_?” They were walking together, after the diner, after...was it a date? Could he call it that?

“No, no” she shook her head. “Not that it’s a clown, really, just that...I dunno, just that things have come to this, that people are fighting each other like this.” Stephanie pressed her lips into a frown, and it made his chest pang. “Do you think it really ever was better - before?”

“That’s what my mom says, but...” Arthur shrugged, letting the thought die. He didn’t want to talk to her about his mom yet, not sure what she’d think. 

“Do you know that  _I’m _ a clown? For parties? I go to children’s hospitals and stuff too.”

Stephanie’s face brightened. “Really? That’s so sweet, Arthur!”

“My mom says I was put on this earth to spread joy and laughter, so I - I...” he stumbled, struck with embarrassment. He remembered Pogo’s.

“That’s so kind of you. Seriously, I mean it.” Stephanie rested her hand on his elbow, and his breath froze. “The world needs more people like you, Arthur.”

They reached the end of the block, a corner somehow mostly free of garbage. Stephanie stopped to fish around in her purse, pulling out a pen and a scrap of paper - the blank side of a faded receipt. “Here, lemme write down my home number. That way you don’t have to just come to the pharmacy.”

He clung to the paper like it was fragile, afraid to drop it. “Uh, sure, I -“

Stephanie grasped his bare hand in her own, a light touch but burning with meaning to him. “I had fun tonight, Arthur. Let’s do it again. Give me a call.”

When he got home, he pasted the number on a fresh page in his joke book, and wrote, as neatly as he could, in big bold letters above: STEPHANIE. In smaller print he decorated the rest of the page with what he knew about her: Pharmacy. Coffee. Waffles.

Then he stared at her number until it was burned into his memory, just in case.

* * *

His mother was snoring in her room, and Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. He’d never been so anxious to get her dinner and nightly TV ritual over with.

Now he paced, barefoot and bare-chested, in the living room, hem of his worn pajama bottoms dragging the floor. He’d talked himself into deciding to call Stephanie tonight - it had been a week or so since the diner - but now...

“HA ha ha,  _ha_,” the laughter swallowed him, and he tried to not fight against it, tried to ride it out with a palm placed on his stomach to calm the spasms. 

Finally his laughs stopped, so he lit a cigarette. And before he could talk himself out of it again, he picked up the phone and called Stephanie.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Arthur’s leg bounced and he glanced at the clock. Around midnight. She should be home.

Another ring. Then, “Hello?” Stephanie sounded tired but her voice was soft and beautiful.

Arthur swallowed, cleared his throat, then swallowed again. “Hi, it’s Arthur. Arthur Fleck?”

“Hi Arthur! I was hoping you’d call.”

He hmm’d in response.  _Did she really? _ He wanted to think so, but he didn’t know what to say. “How are you? How’s work?” he settled on something banal.

“I’m...fine, I suppose. Nothing much’s changed.” 

Arthur could hear the low murmur of a television on her end, wondered what she’d been watching. Wondered what she was wearing and what she looked like. Did she wear fancy lingerie like in the magazines, lacy and pink? Did she wear more practical pajama sets? His knee kept bouncing along to his racing pulse, and he tried to focus.

“Yeah, yeah...I hear you.” There was a lull in the conversation, and he blurted out, “Actually, no, I uh,” a short laugh, “I lost my job.”

“Oh my god, Arthur! I’m so sorry! What happened?”

“I dunno...my boss was mad after I lost a sign for a store closing. But I got beaten up; it was smashed. They were just kids.” He sighed, scratched a brow with the thumb of the hand holding the cigarette. “Is it just me, or is it getting crazier out there?”

“It is,” Stephanie sighed. “I’m really sorry, Arthur. You’re a good man; you don’t deserve this.” She sounded like she meant it. “Are you...holding up okay?”

“Like a bus wreck holds up traffic.”

“Oh Arthur,” she laughed, maybe despite herself. “How about let’s just not think about it right now? You said you like the Murray Franklin Show, right? That should be coming on soon?”

Arthur glanced at the clock again. “Yeah, about 10 minutes.”

“Let’s watch it together, on the phone. It’ll be like I’m there with you.”

He saw there in the glow of the television, phone cradled in one hand, the other miming holding Stephanie’s hand, like she really were there next to him on the couch.

Later, he wrote in his joke book:  _“Stephanie is beautiful and so nice. She laughs at my jokes and listens to me. I have never been in love before but I think I love her.”_

* * *

The steady  _beep beep beep _ of the hospital machines rattled in his skull. Arthur couldn’t bear to look at his mom, lying there half dead. He just stared forward numbly at the hospital blankets, trying not to think about anything. He didn’t know what to think or feel.

But Stephanie’s small soft presence on the couch next to him was grounding. She slipped her hand into his own, stroked the skin with her thumb - a lifeline.

“Do you want to get a coffee with me?” she asked quietly. “It’s probably shit around here, but it’ll be a change of scenery. You’ll worry yourself to death in here.”

Arthur sighed heavily and rose to his feet. Maybe it would be good to not think about it for a while, to distract himself. Maybe  _live a little_ \- away from his mom. 

The thought of  _freedom _ was nauseatingly tempting, forbidden, so Arthur tugged on Stephanie’s hand and led her out into the hallway.

* * *

They were walking back from another midnight breakfast at the diner when the sky fell out: fat, angry drops of rain pelted them. 

Stephanie shrieked and ran for shelter under the nearest awning. Arthur followed, languid and relaxed. They faced each other, she looking up at him with big blue eyes, he unable to hide the wide smile on his face. He actually felt... _happy._

She reached up and pushed a strand of wet hair from his eyes, tucking it behind his ear. He let his lips graze the inside of her wrist, and then, emboldened, leaned down to kiss her mouth. It was a bit too much pressure, a bad angle, and he felt her retreat.  _Shit shit shit. _ He’d never done this, didn’tknowwhatto - 

Stephanie was leaning up on her tiptoes, wrapping her arms around his neck, and then she was kissing  _him_.  Warmth filled him from head to toe, not just desire but acceptance.  She was kissing _him._

When she withdrew, Arthur felt shaky, unsteady. “Stephanie, I -“

“We’re close to your apartment,” her voice was low, suggestive. “Do you want to go together, get out of the rain?”

* * *

They left puddles by the door as they tugged off wet shoes and socks and jackets. Stephanie’s hair was dark with rain water, her cheeks flushed, and her teeth began to chatter.

“Oh, uhm, do you want to use the shower? The water is sometimes warm.”

Her face broke into a wide grin. “Sure, if you’ll join me.” 

Arthur thought his eyes would pop out of his head at her suggestion, but he eagerly followed her to the meagre bathroom, stripping and strewing clothes on the floor as they went.

Later, when they first had sex, it was perfect.  _She _ was perfect: she didn’t laugh at his inexperience or shy away from his awkward ribs and mottled bruises. Even when Arthur fumbled with the foil of the condom packet, she just gave him one of her lovely smiles and guided him: all patience and soft smiles and tender kisses.

In the morning she was radiant in the dawn light creeping through the grimy curtains, and she showed him how to make pancakes the real way, not out of a box. 

* * *

“Oh Arthur,” Stephanie breathed a heavy sigh through the phone. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

Arthur stared at his mom’s empty bed and felt no sadness. “It’s okay, she -“

“She had you in the end, which is what matters,” Stephanie supplied. “You were a very good son, Arthur.”

He twirled the phone cord into knots. How to tell her? “It’s okay.” Arthur repeated. “I think it was time. I feel...lighter now.”

“I understand. It’s hard watching someone be sick for so long.”

No, that really wasn’t it at all, but he was running out of time.

“Do you want me to come over? I could bring dinner -“

“No, it’s okay. Listen, I can’t talk for long. I’m going on the Murray Franklin Show tonight.”

“You  _what_?”  Arthur couldn’t decide if she sounded angry or just confused.

“They called and asked me to be a special guest. I guess they liked my stand-up at Pogo’s.”

“That’s wonderful,” hesitation slowed her voice. “But what about your mo-?”

“Mom would have wanted me to go. She loved the show.” Arthur held the handgun in his palm, flat, tested its weight. “I should go, Stephanie. Gotta get ready.”

“Sure.” She sounded disappointed, and it stung.

“Will you watch tonight? I know it’s gonna be something special. I feel like I can really make an impact on people.”

“Of course,” Stephanie’s voice softened. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Good. I love you, Stephanie. This will change things for the better. You’ll see.”

“I love you too, Arthur. Go knock ‘em dead.”

Joker’s face broke into a huge grin. “Oh I will, babe. I will.”

* * *

When GCPD detectives searched the set of the  _Murray Franklin Show_ for evidence, they found Arthur Fleck’s joke book. Inside: cutouts from porn mags, bad jokes, sad diary entries, and pages dedicated to a Stephanie, no last name given. 

When tried, the phone number written did not ring. Gotham City Bell had no records of the number existing. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is the longest thing I’ve written in forever: the Joker film just grabbed my imagination and wouldn’t let go. I loved the image of Helms Pharmacy and thought the Sophie plotline was so sad (and worth further exploration), so I combined the two ideas into one here. I attempted to write something ambiguous with a couple narrative inconsistencies tossed in there to add to that feeling of “something isn’t adding up here.” I wanted poor Arthur to be happy but stay true to the general plot of the film, so this is what happened. Hopefully it worked and you enjoyed! I welcome any comments/feedback.
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr under the name bonnieandrhyme.


End file.
